


Baby You Got Me Tied Down

by Chasingcara



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Harry, But i promise it's happy at the end, Fluff and Angst, It gets kinda sad there for a bit, M/M, Mpreg, pinky swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-12 06:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7088956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chasingcara/pseuds/Chasingcara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is part of the .02% of boys who get pregnant. He is also the sole member of the .00000001% to get pregnant in prison. </p><p>OR </p><p>a prison au where louis is 6'2'' and harry is treated kindly.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://chasingcaraa.tumblr.com">tumblr</a><br/><a></a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby You Got Me Tied Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ComfyJammies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComfyJammies/gifts).



> Flashbacks are in italics  
> Hope you like it! :)

_**Prompt: Harry got arrested for robbing a bakery to feed hungry people in his village. He met Louis in the holding cell while waiting to be processed for graffiti or something minor.** _

 

_It’s two weeks in and Harry still can’t stop crying._

_He cries in the lunch line, in the showers, in bed. He cries when he sees the cockroaches on the walls or his newly (not quite shaved but pretty much) head._

_It’s two weeks in and it’s quite obvious that Harry doesn’t belong here._

_The men stare at him : mean stares, lusty stares, disgusted stares. He’s been offered hard drugs four times already. He’s had a strong craving for cigarettes but he’s never smoked before._

_Prison is changing him already, tearing him down. If it weren’t for Louis he would probably already have crumbled under the pressure._

_Louis tickles him when he wants to see a smile, and kisses his nose when he wants to hear him giggle. Harry heard that Louis punches people in the cafeteria who stare after him but those are just rumours (someone could probably take his bloody knuckles as proof but Harry likes to think of it as a coincidence.) Louis is tall and pretty and strong, he kisses Harry against walls and in the shower and there’s not been a single time where the smaller, curly-headed boy thought he might fall. Not even when Louis gets carried away and squeezes the flesh of Harry’s cute little bum as he grapples for traction on the slick shower floor._

_Sometimes Harry wonders if the only time he isn’t crying is when he’s with Louis._

_One day, right before lights out, Harry heard the faint sound of bare footsteps against cold cement, and the short sliding noise that told Harry his not-yet-locked cell door was being pushed open. He sat straight up in bed and rubbed his eyes once, twice, three times because Louis was standing right in front of him, eyes alight with something that looked a lot like mischief and a quirk to his eyebrow, a little kink in the middle that made him look younger than 23. His pink, bitten lips whispered, “hey, babe” and he crawled into bed beside Harry, squirming until they were comfortable on the small twin bed._

_“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, smiling, fingers curling in the hair at the nape of Louis’ neck. Louis closed the distance and opened up Harry’s mouth with his tongue, sliding it against Harry’s molars. It was probably at least ten minutes but Harry swore it was seconds before the authoritative sound of guard boots resonated down the hall, and Louis dove under the duvet, between Harry’s somewhat spread legs. His breath fanned out over Harry’s hip and time slowed to a crawl. Everything melted away when Louis’ fingers pushed Harry’s waistband down so his half-hard cock was exposed, slim, nimble fingers gripping the base and jerking fast._

_It took everything in him to not moan._

_The guard was almost there, almost standing outside the cell to lock it, and Harry’s hand was pushing Louis’ head down as to not be seen through the duvet as the guard shone his torch through the rungs. Instead of maybe resting his head on the mattress or on Harry’s hip like a normal person would, Louis took all of Harry’s cock in one go and swallowed around the head as he deep-throated it, quiet little breathless noises escaping his nose._

_Everything could’ve happened. The guard could have seen and punished them both, keeping them apart for the rest of their prison sentences. He could’ve made both Harry and Louis’ lives a living hell._

_And although everything could’ve happened, nothing did._

_The guard moved on, unaware, uncaring. Louis pulled away and lapped at the precome sliding down Harry’s shaft like it was candy. The other hand that wasn’t jerking him off was resting lightly on Harry’s thigh, rubbing up and down slowly, comforting. If Harry wasn’t so fucking hard he might’ve taken that comfort into account._

_“I’m… stop, stop,” Harry whispered, tugging at Louis’ hair gently and pulling him up. “I’m going to cum if you keep doing that.”_

_“Since when is that a bad thing?” Louis hair looked sinful from where it was tangled and messy atop his head, proper sex hair. His lips were glistening something sinful and Harry might’ve orgasmed just from that alone if he wasn’t so excited at the prospect of what was to come, of actual sex. It’d been months and months since Harry’d had something besides his fingers in him and he needed this._

_He needed Louis._

_“Want, want you,” he told him, pushing him in to have their lips meet. Harry blurted out more precome as he tasted himself on Louis’ tongue._

_They started to grind together, all thick moans and wet boxers, and it wasn’t until Louis started to inch his fingers behind Harry’s balls that they stopped._

_“Wait, wait,” Harry panted, gripping his wrist. “Can’t… won’t do this without lube. Hurts.”_

_“Yeah babe,” Louis smiled, revealing something from his pocket with his free hand, “got lube. Don’t worry.” Their lips met again, pulling apart with a wet snick. “I’ll take care of you.”_

_He did._

_He never stopped._

 

☾

  


“I wanted to be a basketball player,” Louis says with a chuckle, picking idly at the tearing sole of his shoe. The rubber there is old and worn and should’ve come off cleanly, no hassle needed, but Louis’ prolonging the process, dragging it out. Harry wonders if it’s because of the prison grey Louis’ been so long subjected to and his need for something new to look at, even if that something new is a small hole in his footwear. “I’m, like, 6’2’’, right, so it’s plausible. I was an okay forward.” He shrugs. “I was an okay basketball player overall. Maybe I was a bit more than okay, I don’t know - colleges recruited me.”

“That means you’re good, Lou,” Harry informs, nudging his boyfriend’s shoulder with his own. His lips touch to Louis’ collarbone briefly. “You were good, I can tell. How else would you get these abs, huh?” He pinches at the tiny layer of fat covering what used to be washboard muscle teasingly and laughs as Louis swats his hand away.

The boys shift, Harry curling into Louis’ side, Louis snaking his arm around Harry’s back until his palm is resting on the smaller boy’s hipbone, thumbing at it slowly as they sit against the cement block wall, the surface cold through their thin uniforms.Well, Louis’ thin uniform. Harry has on a thicker, baggier and softer uniform that’s gentle on the skin - “supposed to help with stretch marks, Lou, isn’t that so nice of them? So considerate.”

Harry’s kind of prison is considerate.

Louis’ kind of prison is desolate.

“I wanted to be a ballerina,” Harry says dreamily, burrowing further into Louis’ warmth as his voice echoes slightly off the walls.

“You have the body for it, Smalls.”

Harry pouts. “Not anymore.”

Louis presses his fingertips harder into the smaller boy’s hip in what Harry supposes is a comforting gesture. Harsh overhead light sticks to their skin and shines off the dark curls messily sat on Harry’s head and the boys really should get out more, get colour to their skin, but the yard is dangerous for people like Harry. Harry does sometimes get secluded outside time so he doesn’t get some Vitamin C deficiency but Louis isn’t allowed to come with him. He’s stuck snarling at the other prisoners who watch with lusting eyes and dirty minds through the windows, whispering vulgar remarks to each other and hoping Louis didn’t hear, hoping they can escape his rumoured cruelty towards those who are rude to the pretty boy he loves.

Harry’s kind of prison is considerate.

Louis’ kind of prison is desolate.

“When… when do you get out of here again?” Harry asks timidly, drawing shapes and incomplete sentences on Louis’ chest in between his ink. He feels Louis sign underneath his finger.

“I don’t know babe,” he whispers into Harry’s hair. Harry feels tears begin to build in his throat. “It’ll be after you, that I know for sure. Even if, like, if I get out early for something weird I would stay. I’d stay for you.”

Harry laughs sadly. “Dunno if you can do that.”

Louis holds him closer and says, quietly, “I don’t know how to do much, you know. I don’t really know how to communicate, how to cook… I hardly know how to love you right. But I do know how to keep you safe, and I’ll do that until there’s no breath left in my lungs or miles for my feet to walk.”

There’s a pause. A cell block closes and echoes off the tiles.

“I know you wanted to be a basketball player, Lou, but I think you probably should’ve been a poet.”

 

☾

 

“Get up, Tomlinson.”

Harry stirs awake, groaning with the sharp beam of light shining right into his squinting, tired eyes. He burrows back into the safety of Louis’ unbuttoned uniform and tries to find sleep again.

“Tomlinson!”

Harry feels Louis jerk awake and automatically hug him closer to his body. The curly headed boy kisses his bare chest and pats softly at his sternum tattoo before sitting up against the headboard, wiping his eyes. The guard standing in Harry’s doorway lowers his torch beam and allows him to smile in recognition. “Hi Lester,” Harry waves, combing back his chocolate waves with his palm. “Early start this morning?”

“Yeah, Harry. Real early,” Lester says kindly. “If you could help your boyfriend get out of bed it would be much appreciated. Really move the process along, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Course. Give us a second?”

With a slightly reluctant sigh, Lester switches off his torch and walks into the hall, turning his back to the couple.

Harry’s kind of prison is considerate.

“Louis, babe.” He shakes at the bare arm that was encircling him only moments ago. “Lester’s here to pick you up.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

Harry laughs quietly and kisses Louis’ ear. “C’mon, be nice. Lester’s nice.”

“Yeah. Nice to you.”

“Get the fuck over here, Tomlinson!”

With the shout prompting him, Louis’ out of bed and shuffling the duvet back around Harry’s shoulders, kissing his temple, then his nose, then his lips. Harry whines when he pulls away, reaching to grab his face, but Louis just smiles as he walks out the cell door, waving with his free hand as the other is tugged behind his back, Lester beginning to handcuff him. The sight tugs something in him, something age old and instinctive. He’s suddenly gasping for breath, wondering why he’d ever encourage Louis to leave him alone. The walls are closing in on him now, now that Louis’ not inside them anymore. “Lester… Lester!” Harry calls, tripping over himself as he stumbles to the now locked cell door. He’s white knuckled on the bars as he says things like, “wait, wait! Let him stay, please, he can stay with me” and “I love him lots, Lester, please let him stay. Please.”

Louis’ kind of prison is desolate.

And Harry’s beginning to see that, now.

 

☾

 

It’s a sad day.

Harry’s packed in one of the prison vans, rolling down puddled streets and watching rain water splash up against the closed, barred windows. One of the guards gave him a jacket so he’s not cold but he feels like he should be - Louis’ not here. He got in a fight yesterday in the lunchroom. His punishment is isolation, which means he can’t come to Harry’s first doctor’s appointment.

It’s a sad, sad day and Harry’s not cold but he feels like he should be.

“You don’t need someone like that in your life,” James - the guard - is telling him, one handed on the wheel, the other illustrating his words. “The baby doesn’t need someone like that in their life. My mum was a single parent, she did it just fine. No doubt you could too, Harry. Someone as strong as you.”

Harry chokes out a “thank you” and bites down on his thumb to keep the tears at bay.

The baby doesn’t need someone like that in their life.

One hand weasels under his jacket and rests on his lower stomach, protecting something that’s barely there.

Tears fall. The car stops. Life goes on.

 

_Harry is gripping Louis’ hand so tight his knuckles go snowy with tension, and he feels this giddiness build up inside him as they continue down the hall. There’s a guard behind them, hair buzzed and gun holstered at his waist, ushering them along with shouts of “pick up the fucking pace, Tomlinson” and “you’re wasting my time,” but nothing dims the happiness Harry’s radiating. The guard shoves at Louis occasionally, sending him tripping over his boots, but never touches Harry and that’s for the best. Each parties know it would end tragically on both of their ends._

_As a birthday / good behaviour reward, Harry got some time isolated with a person of his choice. The government requires rewards for exemplary prisoners and a change of scenery is one of them, the one Harry chose. There are cameras in the room they’re headed to, and both boys endure an awkward yet routine pat down before they enter, but the room has comfy couches and a small television, and any time alone is time they’re willing to take. Louis has a packet of lube under his tongue and Harry wonders if the guards know, because they don’t ask him to open up. Harry wonders if the guards are secretly jealous the two boys are getting laid more often in prison than the guards are in civilian life._

_As soon as the man who escorted them goes over the rules, the door shuts and cameras prey on the couple, who have since cuddled up on the couch. Harry’s lazily mouthing at Louis’ neck and now there’s a mark there, probably, but that’s okay. It’s really okay when Louis’ hands creep down to Harry’s bum and squeeze until the younger boy yelps, pushing back into the contact, crotches lined up and creating delicious friction. When they kiss, Harry’s tongue becomes the possessor of that precious, costly packet of lube and he drops it inconspicuously between them._

_“Dunno why you’re being so secretive, Smalls,” Louis grins, breathing heavily between words and kisses. “They’re literally gonna watch us fuck here in a second.” Harry groans. He may have a bit of an exhibitionism kink hidden beneath all his fluff, all his curly hair and bright eyes. Louis loves it. “You’re something else,” he laughs into Harry’s mouth, “you’re something beautiful.”_

_The younger boy pulls away to roll his eyes and knead at Louis’ clothed cock, whispering a breathy “just fuck me already, you sap.”_

_Louis’ eyes widen and he nods, quick and eager, taking the slightly slimy lube packet and ripping it open. It begins to drool over his fingers. “Strip,” he says. “And wave to the camera while you’re at it.”_

_Harry gasps and throws his shirt at Louis. If he’s being honest, although the whole people watching thing would normally get him off, the thought of his guards watching makes his full mast cock flag a bit. His brain shuts off any recognition of the camera and focuses on Louis’ now naked body, and the reddened penis bobbing against his lower belly. Harry watches as his boyfriend winks at the security camera and he rolls his eyes for what feels like the millionth time that day._

_“Are we going to, like, have sex or were you planning on just getting off with the camera?” Harry asks, a sly quirk to his lips. They’re sinful, his lips, all red and bitten. Louis wants to kiss them._

_“You impatient little being,” Louis chastises, pulling him in by the hips, “I was getting to that.”_

_“Can you get to it a bit faster?”_

_With an odd yet weirdly endearing growl, Louis shoves Harry on the couch and tells him to shove one of the throw pillows under his hips. Harry’s hesitant because, like, “Lou my dick’s leaking and I’m gonna get cum all over Warden Glenn’s throw pillow,” but he gets over it quickly when Louis’ finger breaches his rim._

_“Ugh,” he groans, rocking against the stretch Louis provides. “More, more.”_

_“So impatient.”_

_There are two fingers in Harry now, then there’s three, and before Harry can even cry out there’s sticky liquid on his rim and a cock sliding smoothly into his body, sending his hips rocking into the fabric of the pillow almost uncontrollably, primal. Harry’s whimpering high in his throat and Louis really, really hopes those cameras don’t have sound to them because he’d like to keep at least those sounds to himself. If those cocksucking losers have to watch them fuck, they don’t have to hear him let out sinful noises too._

_“Yeah, babe, just like that,” Lou coaxes, his words trailing off into a groan. “So tight.”_

_“Harder.”_

_Louis puts his whole body into it, groaning when Harry pushes himself back into Louis’ thrusts. There’s sweat rivulets going down his temple and he’s so beautiful when he’s wrecked like that, keening, toes curled. Louis hopes the guards are enjoying the show because he’s only now realizing how possessive he should be, how careful he needs to be in keeping this precious boy to himself._

_Long story short, free shows won’t be happening again._

_“C-close, ahh!” Harry cries out on a particularly harsh thrust to his prostate and cums across the fabric, jerking with it. Louis grips his hip and starts to do the dirty work himself, pushing Harry back on his cock, the poor boy too tired to do much but take it with whines and pants. It’s not long before Louis comes inside the smaller boy, collapsing on his back and rolling to the side, stroking Harry’s cheekbone with his thumb as his hands shake._

_Harry’s eyes are closed, so he can’t figure out what Louis’ gaze is telling him. It looks something like love to Lester the guard, who’s been cringing the entire time, looking back at the screen every couple minutes to make sure nothing illegal was happening. But, yeah, if you asked him it looked like Louis was in love with Harry._

_That would be tragic, wouldn’t it._

  
  


Dr. Hopkins is confused.

“You’re with Cottingley prison,” she states, a curious stitch to her eyebrows and twist to her mouth. “But you’re in here with me, without a guard, asking me to… give you a check up?”

Harry twiddles his thumbs and sticks his tongue out a bit as he thinks, legs swaying back and forth from where he’s sitting on Dr. Hopkins’ counter. His jacket is on the chair in the corner and he’s cold now, the absence is sending chills down his spine and he should be cold so he is.

Harry’s cold cold cold.

“Um, I was put in there for a minor offense,” Harry starts, waving his hand, wiping at the corner of his eye absentmindedly. “Six months ago - I stole a couple hundred pounds from a bakery in town, gave their stock to hungry kids in my village. So I got a year and a half in prison.” Dr. Hopkins nods, watching him intently. She gestures for him to go on. “I met a boy - Louis. He’s… he’s a beautiful person, Dr. Hopkins, has a beautiful, like, soul, I guess? He’s meant for me, I know. I met him and we fell in love and, um, into bed too kind of.” Harry and Dr. Hopkins laugh together and though both sound genuine only one is. “I found out a month ago. As soon as the guards saw the test results they treated me so different ; suddenly I’m in this posh room with a queen sized bed and a separate bathroom and my uniform is softer, lotioned. I… I have my own lunch times and dinner times and I get more food and I have access to so, so much more and I know it’s because I’m rare. I’m part of the .02% of men who can carry another life inside of them.” There are tears again and they’re blurring his vision. He can’t see much more than the four walls around him and his own hands. “I love Louis but they’re pulling me away from him. And it hurts lots.”

Dr. Hopkins hands him a tissue, and Harry crumbles it in his fist as he looks to his lap, watching the drops wet the fabric of his uniform. “I’m sorry you have to go through this Harry.” Her hand finds his shoulder. “I’m glad you can confide in me.”

“Ugh, sorry I literally just met you.” He laughs and wipes away the tears on his cheeks. “It’s hormones, right? That’s a thing.”

Dr. Hopkins laughs. “Yes, Harry, that’s a thing. Lie back for me, please.”

  


When Harry gets back, he’s quiet.

He lies down on his soft bed and wonders what kind of bed Louis is sitting on now. He wonders when he’ll see him again, when he can kiss him again, how much time will pass before he can stand to be by himself in a room for more than a few moments without feeling anxious.

This is shaping up to be quite a sad story, for him.

He hears that Louis broke a kid’s nose yesterday. “Could’ve killed him. Sometimes those shards go into the brain and he could’ve taken that kid’s life, yesterday. Don’t want him around. Don’t want someone like Louis around, Harry.”

Quite the sad story indeed.

  


☾

 

“Names? ‘Ave you been thinking of any names?”

Harry nods his head and rests his interlocked hands on his extended stomach as Louis links their legs together beneath the duvet, palm resting lightly atop Harry’s. The smaller boy says “I like the name Ollie, and Theo. Leo, too.”

“Lots of ‘o’s there.”

“Do you have an issue with that particular letter?”

“Not really.”

“Just making an observation?”

“Yeah, yeah. You know me. Observing.”

Harry shakes his head in mock disappointment and scrunches up his nose when Louis plants a wet kiss on his cheek.

They fit like a puzzle -

“The baby will be three when I get out.”

\- with a piece of it missing.

 

☾

 

Harry’s release date comes seven months earlier than expected.

Men in suits with straight mouths and even straighter suit jackets are standing outside his cell door when he’s roused from his sleep by Lester the Guard a couple weeks later. Louis is already on his feet, shoving at Lester, shouting things at him, scared scared scared in his face and his actions and his voice that cracks whenever he says “let him stay.”

Louis’ kind of prison is desolate.

“You’re being let out early on account of your high risk pregnancy,” one of the straight mouthed men tell Harry.

Harry’s kind of prison is considerate.

Louis is whispering now, teary, holding Harry to him as he kneels on the bed, lips against Harry’s tangled curls. Lester’s given up on taking him out of the room and is standing, arms crossed, lips pursed, toe tapping. There are tears on Harry’s cheeks and most of them don’t belong to him and that’s tragic.

“Is Louis going with me?” It’s hopeless, what Harry’s asking, it’s hopeless at best but he’s hoping that maybe there’s a heart buried underneath the fabric and the ribcage and the tissue in the suited men’s body.

It’s hopeless at best.

The suited men shake their heads in a ‘no’.

“You fucking bastards!” Louis explodes, shaking with it, crowding in closer and squeezing Harry until it hurts. “You can’t just take him from me!”

They can.

They do.

  


**2017**

It’s visiting day.

The baby is whimpering a bit in Harry’s arms as he shoulders through anxious family members and crying girlfriends on his way to the back room, the room where he’ll see Louis. He feels his heart rate skyrocket at the thought of touching him, stealing a few kisses when the guard isn’t looking, handing Gracie over to him… hearing his voice. It sounds ridiculous, the whole thing sounds ridiculous - they wanted to be married.

But now it’s visiting day and Harry’s ring finger is bare.

The pair sits at one of the far tables, Gracie giggling on Harry’s lap as he helps her stand on her chubby legs, thumbs tickling her sides. The little wisps of ginger hair atop her head are a bit of mystery, to Harry - no one really has red hair in the family. The whole thing is absolutely precious, though, with her freckles and her red hair and her eyes that glisten just like Louis’ when you get them in the right light. He wonders if maybe Louis would’ve gasped with teary eyes when she was first handed to Harry in that hospital room, if maybe he would’ve sobbed with him and thanked whoever was above them for giving them such a beautiful, beautiful child.

He wonders all these things and has to swallow down the fact that he’ll never find the answer.

“You excited to see Papa?” Harry asks excitedly, bouncing Gracie so she gifts him with a cute, slightly toothed smile. “He’s going to be so excited to see you, Poppet. You’ve gotten so big since he last saw you.”

Gracie gurgles her agreement.

There’s the drone of a prison bell and these doors open, men of all shapes and sizes filing into the waiting room and looking around anxiously for their family member.

And he’s there.

In the back.

He looks skinnier than before, his uniform seeming to hang off his frame like curtains off the rod. His cheekbones are more pronounced than he would’ve thought, than he would’ve imagined, his face sunken in.

His eyes are dull. Harry can’t help but think that he doesn’t really know the man in front of him.

The stranger saunters forward, all confidence. His strides are long despite his short legs and he reaches out for Gracie like he’s done it a million times before.

Four. He’s only done it four times.

Gracie squirms in his hold, uncomfortable. “No, baby, it’s your Papa,” Louis says, cigarettes in his voice. “Remember me?”

He’s only held her four times.

When Harry kisses him it’s quick and dry, almost emotionless.

“Remember me, Gracie? Do you remember?”

  
  


Louis comes home three months later.

His mum picked him up and dropped him at Harry’s flat off 4th avenue, above the deli shop. Louis ascends the creaking stairs with his suitcase and duffle in hand, huffing and puffing as he gets to the top, out of shape and out of breath. He finds himself longing to get out to the football pitch - he wants to get into his old body again. It’s been years since he’s had his feet crammed into cleats.

There are three doors at the top and Louis knocks on the one to the left, because it’s the only one that has princess stickers peeling off the wood. His knuckles are still sore from that kid he punched a couple weeks ago, the one that asked him what it’s like being a dad. There are still sores atop the bone there - he hopes they don’t scare Harry.

“Coming,” is the first he hears of the curly haired boy, muffled through the wood, tired.

Footsteps.

“Lou.”

It’s breathless, surprised. Harry has a stray curl in his face so he uses his palm to push it away. His smile is wide but it’s not very genuine. Soon, his hand is on Louis’ shoulder and he’s leaning in to give him a chaste kiss on the lips, something someone would give their spouse as they return home from work, something domestic. Louis feels his heart rate pick up. “Come in.”

The baby is playing on the floor with her blocks, little colourful things that remind Louis of his brief Lego phase as a kid. She gurgles at him as he bends to pick her up, but she doesn’t push him away so he counts it as a victory. As he smacks a kiss to Gracie’s cheek, Harry smiles and loses some of the awkwardness in his posture as he inches closer to the man he used to call home. “She looks like you,” Harry tells him, as if Louis couldn’t tell. The blue eyed boy nods and ignores the knot in his throat.

They go through the motions, domesticity, learning to love again. It takes a couple weeks for Harry to feel comfortably with Louis touching him again, kissing him again. Gracie doesn’t whine at Louis’ touch anymore after a month.

The baby steps turn into bigger ones. Soon, there’s a double bed that smells like a mixture of Louis and Harry and baby powder, and the doormat out front says ‘Tomlinson’. Gracie understands her last name by the age of three, because ‘Daddy and Papa aren’t married, but Daddy loves Papa enough to give you Papa’s last name.”

It’s a year and a half before they have rings on their fingers, two before Harry has a positive pregnancy test on the sink. Two and nine months when Micah is brought into the world crying, the first one to hold him being Louis.

It’s a beautiful thing, really. How puzzle pieces find their way back together.


End file.
